I Hate Cookie
by Raablyn and Atled Willy
Summary: This was written while Raablyn (aka me) was having a lot of trouble with the very uncooperative computer. Mix in Raistlin and the Superbowl. Short. Hope ya like. Two new chapters up, both starring Raist, by Atled and me.
1. I Hate Cookie

_Disclaimer: I own nothing._

_Note: THIS IS SHORT! LIVE WITH IT!_

_Note: I was very, very angry at the computer because I kept asking me if I wanted to send some file called 'cookie' to some site. Finally, not being able to take it anymore, I consoled myself with the thought: how would certain characters act in similar situations? (this was after I stopped screaming, yelling, and pounding the computer to a pulp)_

_This was purely for my enjoyment, yes I mixed some recarnation stuff into it, I was caffinated when I wrote it, I don't like football very much, I think the world is obsessed with the Superbowl, I hope you like this, and the dang computer is STILL asking about cookie . . . _

_I hate 'cookie'._

I Hate Cookie.

"AAARGH!" Raistlin slammed his bony fist against theuncooperative computer, than rubbed his throbbing hand. " - computer." he muttered.

"Raist, you OK?" Caramon peaked his head around the door, his arms ladened with chips. It was, after all, Super Bowl weekend.

"The damn, damn, damn computer KEEPS asking me about wheather or not I'd like to send a damn, damn file called 'cookie' or whatever to a damn, damn site!"

"Whoa . . . that's a lot of damns." Caramon was very, very, very impressed.

"Die, cookie." muttered Raistlin, clicking the 'no' button on the last of the 7.3 million annoying little warning-pop-up-thingies, sighed as the computer actually decided to load the next site. Tapping his fingers on the keyboard, the teenager's pale blue eyes fixed on the white screen in impatient wait.

"Hey, Raist, ya wanna get off that computer and come watch the Superbowl with us?" Kit, dark curls peeking attractively around her face, asked, never once taking her eyes from the superbowl screen.

"Loading . . . loading . . . loading . . . " was all the irate thirteen-year-oldcared to reply.

"YAYYYY! Touchdown!" yelled Caramon, and he and Gilon, the twins' father, got up and cheered.

"The world's gone mad." Raistlin muttered, still with his eyes on the screen. "Load, will ya?" he muttered, snapping on headphones with one hand while the other adjusted the staticky cord that connected them to the silver C-D player, pressing 'play' in the meanwhile. (I do this a lot)

Once adjusted, Raistlin drew back his fist and banged again on the computer. "Load already!" he yelled in frustration.

As if it could hear the yell, the computer suddenly loaded.

"Wow . . . this thing actually loaded." Raistlin sat still, stunned with the sheer shock of it. That is, stunned with the sheer shock of it until the music came on full blast through the headphones, stabbing at Raistlin's ears.

"Aaaaaaaah!" Raistlin snatched the headphones off, rubbing his ears. "I've got to stop letting Dalamar use this thing." he muttered. The annoying eleven-year -old ark-haired kid that Raistlin tutored usually borrowed the headphones, tuning up the volume in the meanwhile.

After adjusting the volume and placing the headphones back on, Raistlin skimmed the site, trying his best to ignore the shouts from his football-crazed family in the other room. "Nothing . . . why am I not surprised?" the scrawny teen pressed a link.

Ah, once again to be faced with that damned white screen . . .

And that grey warning-pop-up-thingie that had become all too familiar.

"I hate cookie." muttered Raistlin, slugging the computer hopelessly.

It was going to be a long day.

* * *

_Should Atled and myself do more of these?"_

_Note 3: this was written by Raablyn. Live with it._

_Please review._


	2. I Hate Fanfiction PopUps

_Note- This chapter by Atled._

**_I Hate Fanfiction Pop-Ups_**

Raistlin looked at the computer screen. He was about ready to blow it up into 999,999 pieces, then stab it 999,999 times, and then hurl all the pieces into someone's potted ivy.

"It's bad enough that those idiot fan writers had to portray me as a an idiotic wacko, but I need to send hateful reviews to the idiotic writers, so I can't turn the idiotic pop-up blocker on!" Raistlin yelled at no one in particular.

"Um, what are you yelling about, Raist?" Caramon peered in through the doorway.

"I am yelling at the idiotis ads that keep popping up, advertising idiotic foot-fungus treatment on the IDIOTIC WEBSITE!" Raistlin stormed.

"Is idiotic your new word then?"

Raistlin merely banged his head on the desk and said to himself, "Set bunnies on pop-up… set bunnies on pop-up… set bunnies on pop-up…"

_Note- I quote Raablyn, "Yes this is short. Live with it."_

_Note- Thanks for all who reviewed!_


	3. I REALLY Hate Cookie

_Disclaimer: I don't own anything._

_Thank you to all those who took the time to read and review._

_This, once again, is SHORT. Deal with it._

_Written by Raablyn._

I _REALLY_ Hate Cookie. (and pop-ups)

"Load . . . load . . . llllllloooooooooooaaaaaaaadddddddddd . . . for the sake of my sanity, load, damn you!" Raistlin finally yelled at the computer.

It was a week after the Superbowl, and the damn computer was stiiiiiiiiiill having loading problems.

"Block cookie! Yes! Click, you stupid mouse . . . click already . . . finally!" Raistlin's mood lifted slightly when he saw that the sight had loaded.

Two seconds intoreading the sight, a pop-up came on. Raistlin stared at it for a moment, then twisted in his chair.

"Caramon!"

"Yeah?"

"WHY THE - ARE THERE POP-UPS ON THE - COMPUTER IF THE -BLOCKER IS UP?"

"Raistlin, kids are reading this!" Kitiara yelled from the kitchen.

"Sorry!" Caramon, ears smarting, ran down the stairs to the Room Where The Computer Resided. It was amazing, he believed, that a scrawny kid like Raist could scream that loudly. Leaning over Raistlin, he paused to read the pop-up.

"Oh, gag me!" Raistlin, seeing this and the pop-up, ran for the door. "Air, air, air, air, air."

Caramon finished reading the pop-up and clicked it out, then activated the blocker. Raistlin, coming back in, glowered at his sick, sick brother until Caramon, completely oblivious, went into the kitchen to find Kit.

Raistlin sighed and turned back to the computer, letting his chin fall into his palm. He finished reading, than clicked a link.

"Load . . . "

Steadily watching the bar at the bottom, Raistlin tapped his slender fingers on the table.

Then, lo and behold (seriously, can you guys guess?) a cookie-thingy popped up.

"I _really_ hate cookie." Raistlin muttered, clicking the 'no' button. Beneath that was another of the annoying things, and another, and another, and another . . .

_Please review, we both will be enternally grateful._

_Danke. _


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